


I take this magnetic force of a man (to be my lover)

by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)



Series: Laura Hale is the best Alpha [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Laura Hale, M/M, Mates, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, POV Derek Hale, Pining, So much pining it's a forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 07:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle
Summary: Derek is pretty happy with the mate he's somehow chosen, even though Stiles has no idea - and no interest in Derek. But that's fine. Except Peter just has to open his big mouth, because he clearly wants to ruin Derek's life.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Laura Hale is the best Alpha [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547401
Comments: 47
Kudos: 1074





	I take this magnetic force of a man (to be my lover)

**Author's Note:**

> You guys, I wrote a sequel! Didn't think that was gonna happen, did ya?   
> Not as much Laura in this one - the boys demanded my attention.

He didn’t exactly plan to fall in love with Stiles. He didn’t climb in the kid’s window, his sister’s scent in his nose, just to fall in love with the sarcastic little shit who immediately called him out on being a werewolf with a penchant for breaking and entering (and then immediately started flirting with him). He really didn’t mean to. 

But somehow, over the course of the last two years, Stiles has become his rock. When Laura is distant, an Alpha, an annoying older sister - or any combination of the three - he can always find safe harbor with Stiles. Stiles’ window is always open (no matter how dangerous that may be shut up Derek there’s only one creature of night using that damn window). There’s a chair to hang his leather jacket on, his favorite snacks hidden in the recesses of Stiles’ underwear drawer (that’s the only place the Sheriff won’t look, don’t make that constipated face, Der-Bear), and a guest bedroom that smells mostly of Derek now. 

No one else would dare claim it. Because it’s his. Just like Stiles is… his mate. 

Derek is not supposed to get one of those. Not after getting his family killed. Stiles tells him it’s not his fault sometimes, just out of nowhere (just because of that stupid sad look on your face, asshole). He just looks at Derek and says the words, and then acts like it’s no big deal unless Derek wants to talk about it. 

Laura never likes talking about it. And he gets that, but… She is the only person who remembers things like he does - Peter is certainly not the right person to discuss the past with. He’s still… remarkably volatile when it comes to reminders that their entire family is dead. Also, no one is ever allowed to tell him of Derek’s involvement. Stiles made Laura swear on pain of death. 

Yes, the little shit threatened his Alpha for Derek. And he shouldn’t be so damn pleased about it, but Derek really, really is. Because Stiles keeps choosing him, in ways that Stiles probably doesn’t even realize. 

Is that why Stiles is his mate? Because mates aren’t like the stories. Mates aren’t like destiny, they aren’t someone who was born to be his - and just for that. Mates are a choice, a moment where both wolf and man sit up and take notice, until they decide together, as one, that this is the one. This is the right person, the only right person. That is what a mate is. 

That is what Stiles is. And has been for a while now. 

The realisation wasn’t a sudden thing, not a surprise. Two sides of him had already made up their mind before his brain even got involved (too slow Derek, too slow). 

“It’s my birthday,” Stiles practically runs into the house after his last class. 

And lacrosse, because apparently the gods hate him, Derek. (Why else would they schedule a lengthy lacrosse practice on his eighteenth birthday?)

It’s April and spring is announcing itself - not as loudly as Stiles, though. Is anyone as loud as a happy Stiles, or as vibrant? If so, Derek hasn’t seen them and has no interest in doing so. 

“Der-Bear,” Stiles is now clearly threatening to launch himself at Derek. 

“Miecyzslaw,” Derek returns, and doesn’t make any sudden movements. 

Because if he moves, maybe Stiles will get discouraged, and… Derek wants that attack hug that Stiles has been threatening over the past week or so. Stiles has been demanding a Der-Bear hug as a birthday gift for about a month now, and he’s recently changed gears and told Derek he’d just go for it regardless. 

Derek is… keeping his fingers crossed. Because Stiles has bony limbs, and his elbows are probably best classified as lethal weapons, but he’s also a champion hugger. At least a champion hugger of Derek, because he fits exactly right against Derek’s body and those spindly arms have grown wiry and strong enough to pull Derek in close. 

And the way he smells…

Okay, this is just embarrassing. The pining is getting ridiculous - Peter keeps commenting on it and he can’t believe that Stiles has never managed to overhear any of it. 

Yet. 

“How dare you?” The little shit is so fucking dramatic. “And on my birthday?”

The words drama and queen are not enough to describe Stiles, but he reeks of contentment and joy, and Derek is never going to keep him from that. He enjoys seeing Stiles so happy, would do everything in his stupidly limited power to keep Stiles that happy forever. 

“How dare I use your actual name,” Derek teases, shaking his head at Stiles. 

Derek likes using it, likes that there is this part of Stiles that he knows about while most people barely even know the first initial (because those people have common sense Derek, they don’t like torturing their packmates and friends with monstrous assortments of Scrabble tiles). 

And he likes how it makes Stiles squirm, how it disarms him just a little every single time, because Derek has bothered to learn how to say it properly when the lack of effort from people is what turned Mischief into Stiles. To Derek it’s just… astonishing that he’s the only one. Even though he likes being in that position when it comes to Stiles. 

Stiles, who finally dive bombs in Derek’s general direction. “You are such a pain in my ass.” 

“Lie,” Derek knows all of Stiles’ tells by now.

Of course Stiles has evolved into a stupidly good liar over the past two years, mostly out of sheer spite (because Peter can’t have any information I didn’t give him Derek, your uncle will never not be a creep). He likes getting away with things way too much, no matter the supernatural werewolf lie detector powers - a direct quote, naturally. So he’s learned to play with his chemosignals, to try and mask his tells. 

It works on most of the pack, when Stiles puts his mind to it. But Derek… he’s rarely fooled. 

“One day, dude,” Stiles warns, “I know, I know, don’t call me dude. But one day, dude, I’m going to fool even the great Derek Hale with my bag of tricks.” 

Derek just uses the Brows of Sass - another direct quote, Stiles has mentioned he wants to get it trademarked - to let Stiles know just what he thinks about that. It’s… kind of effective, in that Stiles smiles at him from his position plopped gracelessly against Derek’s side. It’s not effective in that it really doesn’t stop Stiles from doing… anything, really. 

“Brows of sass,” Stiles will not stop grinning. 

“A birthday treat,” Derek layers on the sarcasm. “Just for you.” 

It’s not his actual gift for Stiles, that’s under lock and key where the rest of the pack can’t see it and mock him for it for all eternity. He didn’t ask any of them for advice this time, and since he’s notoriously terrible at picking out gifts for people, he has no doubt that Stiles is going to have to pretend to like it. But asking for help would have been worse, cracking his heart open in front of the teenagers that make up the rest of the pack.

He’s learned to get along with them, and Boyd has been a source of stoic sarcasm and support for almost a year and a half now, but what he feels for Stiles is not something he wants to talk to the other betas about. He can’t even talk to Stiles about it - probably never will. 

No, it’s not like he’s waiting for Stiles to turn eighteen so he can pursue him without any legal concerns. Derek is not waiting for anything. If Stiles shows interest, he will be pretty much worthless, probably terrified for a full day before he goes along with it. But if Stiles never shows interest, he will just… coast. Because this is already more than he’d ever thought he’d have. 

“You spoil me,” Stiles bats those long eyelashes of his and Derek has to look away. 

“You have no idea,” Laura makes an entrance. 

She’s carrying several bags of takeout, and Derek just knows that Erica and Boyd are behind her, carrying even more food. The curse of feeding an entire pack - everyone is sticking around for Stiles’ birthday dinner. The Sheriff (John, call him John, damn it Derek) is bringing dessert, something that Stiles doesn’t usually allow him to have. Everyone is going to be together for once, and they will play nice. For Stiles. 

Laura made sure even Peter would hold back. Or try to. At least a little. There is blackmail involved, Derek is sure of that. 

“I smell curly fries,” Stiles is ridiculous and Derek loves him. 

Because of it? For it? Despite of it? Because it’s who he is! 

“Burgers and curly fries,” Laura drops the bags on the large table before coming over to ruffle Stiles’ hair. “A sophisticated meal for an actual adult.” 

Stiles’ hair is long enough to ruffle now. It used to be buzzed, so short that rubbing it felt tickly (I can’t believe Laura dared you and you did it, you are the best, Derek). Derek has no idea what it feels like now, but… But he wants to find out. It’s probably soft now. 

“Damn skippy,” Stiles practically giggles as he uses Derek’s body to push himself off the couch gracelessly. “Come on Der-Bear, I am starving and I won’t start without you.” 

Erica might as well be pointing and laughing at him with the amount of mocking she can do silently, while easily carrying several heavy bags of food. Boyd is right behind her, the corners of his mouth turned up at Stiles’ ridiculous behavior. 

“Yes, your Majesty,” Derek rolls his eyes and gets up in one swift movement. 

“Now that is exactly how I should be addressed,” Peter has to interrupt, because he’s the actual worst. “At least one of you knows that. Good job, nephew.” 

It feels like the entire pack is in sync for the ensuing eye roll, which is a nice bit of pack bonding that Peter will often provide. Sometimes Isaac loudly mentions that it’s the only thing that Peter is good for, and Derek always protests because of sepia-tinted memories that the pack has never quite been able to understand. And why would they?

“This is why they don’t like you, Peter,” Stiles is not breaking it to him gently. “For once, just put your ego aside and act like you actually want to be here. I’m sure it won’t kill you.” 

But some of the pack members might if he doesn’t change his behavior, is the underlying message that Stiles never actually has to say out loud. Derek does not know what it says about him that this is one of the things about Stiles that he likes most - his strength that is bordering on viciousness. Stiles isn’t soft and harmless and helpless, and Derek adores it. 

“It might,” Peter is almost pouting, but he settles. 

“No dying on my birthday,” Stiles orders imperiously and throws himself into his customary seat, the one that is always next to Derek somehow. “Now, we eat.” 

No one dares to disobey, even Laura sits down at the head of the table with a stack of disposable plates - because they learned years ago that a wolf pack does not always mix with expensive dishwares, especially when it comes to celebrations or when the full moon is coming up. More than one of Laura’s favorite Twilight cups has met its maker that way - and only about half of the lost cups were smashed on purpose. 

(By Stiles, naturally)

“Derek,” Stiles basically yanks him into the seat. “We can’t start eating without you. Move.” 

And he moves, because it’s Stiles and Peter is just staring, gloating at how ridiculously easy Derek is for Stiles. And the longer he postpones this dinner, the more opportunities Peter will have to call him out on it. And that can never happen. 

Plates get filled quickly, because everyone is always hungry - even though Stiles is human, he is still a teenage boy with an apparent hollow leg, because Derek does not understand how he can pack it away like that like he’s as much of a wolf as the rest of them. 

The Sheriff (John, Derek, I can’t keep reminding you) is the only one who keeps the portion of his food reasonable, and probably only because Stiles is staring at him challengingly as his father gets more ketchup for his fries. Stiles only stops staring because he’s got a veritable mountain of food on his own plate, and stuffing his face suddenly becomes more important than making sure his Dad doesn’t take too much advantage of this cheat day. 

Derek is so ridiculously fond of him, even as Stiles acts like the gross teenage boy he is by shoving food into his mouth with hands that remind him more of claws at the moment. It is completely disgusting, and yet, this is still the one. This is still the one Derek’s chosen for himself. This is his mate, his Stiles. 

“Happy eighteenth birthday Stiles,” Peter is being really creepy about the congratulating Stiles bit. “You're legal now. Good thing, because my idiot nephew has been waiting for his mate for two years and I fear it’s affected his already limited intelligence.” 

Sometimes he wonders why they didn’t just kill Peter after he attacked Laura. This is one of those moments. 

Sure, the attack is also the thing that brought Stiles into their lives, and Derek would never regret that, but right now he certainly regrets Peter. And everything, including being born. 

“Damn it Peter,” Derek helplessly swears, and he just knows his ears are turning red.

Because no one knows about this, or no one was supposed to know. Sure, Peter knows everything, but everything should include not completely mortifying his favorite nephew (his only nephew, but I’m sure he said it to you before you were the only one too) in front of his newly legal aged mate. In front of Stiles. 

“I wasn’t waiting for that,” Derek defends himself to Peter first. “That’s just creepy, you do know that right? Counting down until someone is legal… It’s… I wasn’t waiting for anything.” 

The words end there because Derek has too much stake in that topic, from the worst side of the equation, and Peter can’t ever know the details of that. Not ever. 

“You weren’t?” Stiles turns to him, face carefully blank. 

And maybe he’s insulted. Derek would scent the air if he didn’t know that it would only make things a whole lot worse (you need to use your words instead of just your nose, Der-Bear, because not everyone gets hot just because your nostrils flare). 

And… Not everyone? That is not something he can let himself think about. 

“It’s not,” he starts, even though he doesn’t actually have words to offer. “It’s not. Stiles, I… You know I… But you… And I can’t. You need to have a choice. Options. That’s what you deserve.” 

It comes out haltingly, awkwardly, and it probably doesn’t make sense to anyone, least of all Stiles, who never uses one word when he can use five instead. But fuck, Derek tries anyway, because he can’t just shift and run away. 

Well, he can, but Stiles will absolutely find him and kill him for it, and even with all of this embarrassment, he rather likes living. 

So he has to communicate. Like a human. Not like a wolf. 

“Oh my fucking Wizard God,” Stiles lets out a harsh breath through his nose. “You are a ridiculous human being.” 

Stiles uses Wizard God like this is some kind of college comedy play, and Derek is the one who is ridiculous? Fuck, he’d be laughing if this were any kind of other situation. But maybe that’s what he needs to do. Laugh, make Stiles laugh at him instead of huffing at him like he’s a bull and Derek is the matador who came in wearing red from head to toe. 

Though that’s not exactly how that works - Stiles has told him all about how it’s not just red, because of course there was a Wikipedia spiral, and… Not the point. 

“Not a human,” Derek pointedly corrects, because it’s their thing. 

“Okay Janet,” Stiles usually smiles when he says this, but not this time. “You and your fucking manpain made the decision for me, huh?” 

That means that Stiles definitely wants to kill him. Manpain - that is sign number one, because Stiles doesn’t ever, ever diminish what Derek has gone through with a dismissive term like that one - though he will absolutely use it on assholes he’s debating online. And the cursing is sign two, because while Stiles really enjoys saying fuck, he doesn’t exactly pepper it into conversation, and he is using it now like he’s furious with Derek. The rhetorical huh is the last nail in the coffin, though. Stiles doesn’t even want to hear a response from him. 

But he’s getting one anyway, because for once Derek isn’t going to sit down and roll over for Stiles (good dog, okay fuck Derek don’t kill me just because I’m an inconsiderate asshole). 

“No,” he rushes to correct that assumption. “I wasn’t going to make the decision for you. I don’t want to make the decision for you. That’s why I…” 

That is why he didn’t tell him, because if he had, Stiles would have considered that a decision made. Stiles respects werewolf tradition and werewolf culture so much, has taken the time to do all of the research, has figured out the most subtle of differences between born and bitten wolves, and the things that are just Derek. So Stiles knows all about mates and how sacred and special it is for wolves, and even how Derek doesn’t think he gets to have any of it. He’s heard all about Derek’s decision to stay alone, forever. 

Stiles would know how much it means, and change his entire life based off that. And Derek could never do that to him, doesn’t want the inevitable resentment that would follow. Because Stiles will always deserve the best - and Derek knows that isn’t him. 

“Well,” Stiles is slightly less furious now, “don’t you think I deserve to have all of the information before I make a decision? I can’t work with incomplete data, Sourwolf.” 

The nickname automatically makes Derek roll his eyes at Stiles, because damn it Stiles. 

But Stiles is right. But Derek is also right, and they can’t both be right about this. Because Derek has been doing all of this selflessly, keeping his own wants and needs out of the picture to focus on Stiles’ happiness. Or hasn’t he?

Has this just been his trauma fucking with him again? Is it the thoughts that always tell him that it’s a good thing he doesn’t get to have someone, because he’d only ruin it? Is it how he worries that loving people will get them killed? Is it how badly he worries that this pack will be taken from him too? Is it that he knows deep in his soul that he is never going to be able to make up for what he’s done? 

Stiles doesn’t deserve to have all that weight hanging off him, Derek knows this. Stiles is a good friend, the best friend Derek has had in… has ever had, but Derek can’t ask this of him, can’t ask him to deal with even more of the worst of him, his insecurities and how he runs away from confrontation and how he hasn’t touched anyone like that since Kate left him sleeping in her motel room as she set his house on fire. 

There are things not even Stiles knows, and wounds he never wants to open again. 

So maybe he hasn’t been protecting Stiles. Maybe he’s just been protecting himself. 

“Whoah, Caspar, where did you go?” Stiles’ hand on his shoulder makes him flinch away. 

Fuck, he can’t do this. He’s already ruining Stiles’ birthday, so maybe he should just… Maybe he can just… It’s already too late to fix this, isn’t it? 

“Der,” Stiles is so close, and yet he doesn’t reach out. “What do you need?” 

He is standing over Derek, tall and strong and every inch the adult he’s always been destined to grow into. He looks like someone Derek can depend upon. He looks terrifyingly competent for being the same guy who was shoving curly fries down his throat with a reckless speed just minutes before. Stiles looks like the grown-up here, and Derek like the terrified child. 

Derek is the asshole here, ruining everything. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally looks up at Stiles. “It’s your birthday.” 

The entire table has cleared out, most of the food gone with them. The She-John has probably used this opportunity to sneak an extra burger, and he will use it to sneak an extra helping of dessert as well, Derek is sure of it. 

But that’s not what he needs to worry about here - though it would make a nice distraction for Stiles. It’s not a nice thing he’d be doing, but… No. He’s already fucked up enough. 

“It is,” Stiles nods once, sharply. 

“I ruined it,” Derek clenches his suddenly sharp claws into fists. 

His anchor is… Derek is an idiot, for putting that responsibility on Stiles, for making him responsible for Derek’s humanity. That’s not fair, no matter how flattered Stiles had looked when he found out, and how pleased he’d smelled. 

Anger is still easy, though. So easy. 

“If anything is ruined, it’s all Peter’s fault,” Stiles reaches out yet again. 

This time Derek is more aware of his body, and he makes sure he doesn’t flinch, he controls himself because… Because he likes having Stiles this close, touching him. And he can give up control to Stiles, can just let Stiles move him away from the dinner table and back to the giant couch that had been so comfortable before. 

Derek can let Stiles push him down onto the couch, and he can wait for Stiles to decide what he wants to do next, where he wants to go from here. Because that’s Stiles’ call. 

“It was a dick move of him,” Stiles continues. 

And yeah, Derek is not going to argue about that bit of it. 

Still, Stiles is not letting this go. Instead of spending his birthday having a nice dinner with the people who love him, he is stuck with just one of those people as he has a childish meltdown because he can’t handle his own feelings. And… Stiles deserves better than that, but right now it seems like he hardly even cares about that. 

Why wouldn’t he care about that? Why isn’t he furious that he’s stuck dealing with Derek’s bullshit yet again? It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. 

“I would have liked to find out about this from you,” Stiles is so measured, so calm. “When you were ready. But before you decided not to tell me, ever.” 

Had he decided that? Is that what he did? Maybe he had, but maybe he eventually would have changed his mind about that if Peter had given him some damn time to deal with his shit. To prepare, to make himself ready for a relationship, to make himself into a person that could be in a relationship with Stiles. 

But Peter exposed him, and that’s all moot now. 

“I wasn’t ready,” Derek is so damn embarrassed. “Because if you didn’t want it… And if you did… But you don’t.” 

Stiles doesn’t want this. He’s just so mad at Derek for making decisions for him, but he doesn’t actually argue with the result of that decision. All of his arguments were about him just wanting to know this so he can make an informed decision. It has nothing to do with him wanting Derek - because maybe neither of them were ready. Are ready. Will be ready. 

“How did you land on that?” Stiles is… amused now? 

“You’re furious at me,” Derek knows this, and it still sucks. 

He deserves every bit of it, but that does not mean that it doesn’t really, really fucking suck. Stiles is gorgeous when he’s angry, sure, and sometimes it makes Derek think of kissing him quiet, of Stiles biting at him and crowding into Derek’s space angrily, and he likes thinking about those things. But he likes thinking about Stiles happy more, about him falling into Derek’s lap with a grin, and goodnaturedly shoving at him until he’s putty in Stiles’ ridiculous hands. 

“Well, yeah,” Stiles shrugs, as if that’s the least of his concern. “Of course I’m pissed off when you start making decisions for me, and my gut reaction is to lash out because I’m an impulsive little shit. And that’s what you love about me. But I’m trying to see your point of view too, Wolf Boy, and I kind of get it. I get why you’d be scared to tell me.” 

So, Stiles is angry. He’s getting that much right, but everything else just isn’t making sense. Stiles is being ridiculously empathetic about all of this, like he knows both himself and Derek so damn well that he knows exactly where this is going. And Stiles also knows exactly where he wants it to go, and how he can get them there. 

“Why?” Derek has to ask. 

“Because you have the self-esteem of a bullied twelve year old with like, braces and full-on headgear and big, thick glasses,” Stiles paints a vivid picture. “Meaning that you have no self-esteem at all. You were scared I’d say no, so you never asked.” 

Painfully accurate - which is a Stiles Stilinski staple. 

It is just part of the picture though, because while Stiles saying no is a terrifyingly real prospect now, the pipe dream of Stiles saying yes is almost equally terrifying at this point. 

“And now you’re scared I’ll say yes,” Stiles continues, like he isn’t reading Derek’s mind right now. “And that you’ll have to kiss me and be super disappointed by your choice in mate.”

Okay, now Stiles is just talking out of his ass, because yes, Stiles saying yes is terrifying because Derek is one hundred percent sure that it will eventually lead to disappointment, but he is also one hundred percent sure that the disappointment will be on Stiles’ end. Not Derek’s. 

“I always want to kiss you,” Derek hasn’t shut his treacherous brain up in time. 

Stiles just… stops. It seems like he even stops breathing for a second there. His eyes are wide as he stands over Derek, and there is not a single twitch of muscle, no movement. For Stiles, that’s tantamount to sacrilege. Stiles should always be moving, never still. 

After a few seconds, he lets out a slow breath. “You’re a fucking idiot.” 

“Well, yeah,” Derek doesn’t even try to deny it. 

It’s not like Stiles doesn’t know this. Derek is a total fucking idiot when it comes to love, and romance, and most of all, Stiles. But Stiles still appears delighted at this, and so it must be good this time. Hell, for Stiles insults and teasing is practically foreplay. 

Oh fuck, has all their banter been foreplay? He really is a fucking idiot. 

“Why aren’t you kissing me?” Stiles huffs impatiently. 

“What?” Derek must be having a problem with his brain being missing. 

That is really not the response he’d been expecting here. He’d been expecting a rejection framed in sort of funny jokes and quips, and a couple of weeks of awkwardness before they managed to get a semblance of normality back in their friendship. He has never thought of Stiles asking a question like this, outside of stupid daydreams that he always knew were complete fiction. This is all supposed to be relegated to the wishful thinking department. 

It isn’t supposed to be real. 

Is Stiles just playing with him here? Testing him? Does he just want to try it before he summarily rejects Derek? Because that’s cruel, and while Stiles is a lot of… Oh, Stiles can be cruel. So maybe he really is mad at Derek still. 

“Derek,” Stiles whines and pouts. 

“Do you want me to?” He has to ask - he has to. 

That doesn’t get him a verbal response initially. Instead, it gets him a lap full of Stiles, knobby knees parked on either side of Derek’s waist and the curve of Stiles’ ass on his thighs. And then Stiles wiggles, because he’s a damn asshole and Derek should not have forgotten that even for a fucking second. 

He groans, because damn it Stiles. 

“How do you not know this?” Stiles is gearing up for one hell of a rant. “I literally had a bisexual awakening when your creeper ass first climbed through my window. I’ve been hitting on you since the beginning, and flirting with you for just as long. And yeah, I thought it was just for funsies because you weren’t ever going to be interested, but, you are. You are, right?” 

This is the Stiles he knows, the one who goes back and forth between emotions so quickly that most people get tired just watching him. The Stiles who goes from angry to happy to insecure and then back to angry and sad and so fucking happy. 

“Yes,” Derek practically purrs in response. 

“Get with the program, then,” Stiles orders, a smile contorting that damn mouth of his. 

Derek obeys, because of course he does. He pulls Stiles in closer, a hand on his hip to anchor him, and then he presses their lips together, just briefly. Stiles’ lips are wet (I know I lick my lips a lot that’s not a problem right Der-Bear) and softer than he’d expected. Derek can feel his own heart pounding loudly in his chest. This is terrifying. 

He pulls back, and he waits. 

“Seriously, Derek?” Stiles is not amused. 

“What?”

The growl is all Stiles this time. “Do I need to teach you to kiss me properly?” 

Laughing is just instinct at that point, because it’s just so Stiles. Greedy, demanding, mercurial, ridiculous, wolf-like Stiles. Derek’s hand has already made it underneath Stiles’ shirt, and he’s gently rubbing at the skin of his hip. It’s grounding, it’s more than he’d ever expected to get, and Stiles wants more. Because of course he does. 

“Just show me,” he tells Stiles. 

With some muttering about infuriating wolf mates and their insistence on treating Stiles like a princess, Stiles wiggles around in Derek’s lap some more. Because he’s evil, he’s smirking as he does it, tempting Derek with a cock of his head, revealing that long neck Derek has needed to get his mouth on for forever now. 

“Show, not tell,” Stiles points out when Derek doesn’t just pounce. 

“I picked an idiot,” Derek mutters to himself, just loud enough for Stiles to hear. 

Stiles growls again, because apparently he’s been taking a course in finding out exactly what to do to turn Derek the fuck on. And then he leans forward, puts his head in the crook of Derek’s neck and just… sniffs. 

“Okay, no, you’re right and I’m wrong,” Derek feels all the blood in his body rushing towards his groin. “You’re the smartest person I know. I picked the best mate.” 

His voice cracks on the last word, as he tries to get Stiles’ scent in return. Because Stiles smells of happy mate, of happy Stiles. There is the usual spike of cinnamon, the hint of petrichor that tells him Stiles has been using quite a bit of magic leading up to his birthday, and the mix of that stupid Old Spice stuff he insists on using and underneath just sweat and skin. It’s the feeling of warm apple cider on a winter day - like every kind of safe Derek can feel. 

“Yeah, I just want to applaud you on your taste there,” Stiles isn’t even out of breath. “You really picked a winner.” 

Sure, Stiles talks a big game, but there is a hint of something that tells Derek that Stiles doesn’t necessarily believe that. And no. Derek is not going to let that stand - because Stiles is the very best choice. He’s got a million reasons why, too. 

“The smartest mate,” Derek starts as he means to go on. “The most loyal. With nice hands. Sure hands. Who makes me smile. Brave. Funny and sarcastic and clever. His mouth is indecent. Independent, and with a million thoughts and opinions. Who knows me so well. Supportive. Cunning and mischievous and magical. And so, so very strong.” 

He interspaces his arguments with soft kisses to the curve of Stiles’ jaw, to that especially tempting mole slightly under his ear, and then slowly further down, down, down that damn neck. Stiles is breathing heavy now, puffs of air against Derek’s skin as Stiles just leans into every touch, demanding more without words. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Stiles is not complaining though. 

“Maybe a little,” Derek can feel himself smiling.

Because yeah, he is. For Stiles, he is. And always will be. He can see a future stretching out in front of him, different from the one he thought he’d get. This one has more heated arguments, more nights in the same bed even though Stiles flails and kicks away the covers every damn time, and more kissing, and more smiles from both him and Stiles. It looks like… everything. 

“Good,” Stiles nods decidedly, and Derek can feel that. “Shouldn’t you be marking me up more? I did my research on mating, and it said you wolves really like leaving marks all over.” 

Of course Stiles has done all the research, and of course he already knows all the proper steps that ensure the happiest matings. And of course Derek is not going to make it that easy for him, because Stiles likes surprises, likes being kept on his toes. He’ll like the things that aren’t in the books, the traditions that are passed down from parents to their children. He’ll like the typical Hale kind of courting, based on generations upon generations of tradition. 

He’ll like it when Derek treats him to things he’d never get for himself, when Derek gets clingy because this is his mate and wolves like to claim and hold and never let go. Stiles is going to be so very happy, and it’s going to be because of Derek. 

And it’s already started. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you need to be taking notes?” Derek knows he’s being an asshole here. 

“Fuck you,” Stiles responds immediately, pushing Derek’s back up against the couch. 

Derek knows just what to say to that, even as he lets himself be pushed around. He knows just what to do, somehow. The part of him that’s been pushed down for so long is finally allowed to go ahead, to say and do the things he’s been thinking of for all this time. 

So he does. 

“Sure, eventually,” Derek nods amicably, knowing he’s blowing Stiles’ mind here. 

Stiles makes a startled choking sound, and Derek doesn’t even try to hide his grin this time, because while it’s the perfect way to surprise Stiles… It’s also completely true. So he presses a brief kiss to Stiles’ open mouth and waits for his mate to be verbal again. 

Knowing Stiles, that’ll only take a couple seconds or so. 

But what’s a few seconds after all this time?


End file.
